


By Your Side As The World Crumbles

by NealsNeen



Category: White Collar, White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Explosions, Flashbacks, Friendship, Hurt Neal Caffrey, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Whump, concerned Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24150427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NealsNeen/pseuds/NealsNeen
Summary: Neal and Peter walk into a trap and get caught in an explosion.No plot. Just whump for the sake of it. :)I am now on Instagram: whitecollarfiction - follow me :)
Relationships: Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey
Comments: 21
Kudos: 132
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	1. Ground-Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, *escapismandsharpobjects* for the inspiration.
> 
> Sorry about the lack of any major plotline. It's just whump. <3

The first thing he becomes aware of is the thick air that surrounds him. A mixture of smoke and dust. It penetrates his nostrils and makes his head spin. _What the hell happened?_

Slowly, Peter opens his eyes and just stares straight ahead for a second, assessing the situation. He appears to be lying on his back, looking at what is left of a wall next to him. And something is lying on top of him. He slowly turns his head and groans. The way his ribs hurt, he certainly bruised his torso big time.

He can see that there is debris and wood piled on his chest. It doesn't seem to be too heavy but he is still too dazed to move it. _I was falling...and Neal..._ „Neal!“ It was meant to come out a lot louder than it did, his voice strained. _Where could he be?_

Peter remembers walking into the abandoned warehouse with Neal earlier. They were on a case where they were supposed to meet an informant. „Peter, this doesn't feel right.“ Neal had argued. Normally, Peter knew that Neal's gut feeling was almost always on point. But they were too deep into the case to back out now. „Let's go through with it, Neal. The source was reliable, you know he had helped us more than once on this.“

„If it just wouldn't feel like a trap, I'd agree.“

They had reached the warehouse and got to the meeting-point on the first floor. A vast space with pillars and large windows and a beautiful parquet floor. A former dance school maybe?  _It certainly would be a safehouse to Mozzie's liking_ , Peter mused.

There was a desk on the other side with a single file lying on top of it. But no informant in sight.  _Odd._

„Alright, we are here, let's check it out. Maybe our mystery man will show up.“ Neal said.

They cautiously approached the desk and looked at each other, then at the file. Peter carefully opened it. There was only one page inside with one word written on it.

**BOOM!**

Peter remembers being thrown by the blast; debris, dust and wood splinters following his way up and then down. The whole building was screaming, vibrating and eliciting a low groan as walls crumbled and shook. The noise was deafening. He briefly hit the floor with his back, but it instantly gave and he fell, stones and wood following in his wake.

_If anything were to happen to him,_ was his last thought before he hit the concrete floor below with a dull thud. 

Peter coughs and tries to turn his head further to look up to where he fell through. What he sees makes him gasp and break out in a sweat instantly.

There is a hole in the middle of the ceiling and he can clearly see a part of Neal, who seems to be lying halfway on his back. His left arm and a shock of dark, wavy hair is dangling from the opening towards him.

The ceiling is rather low, hence the lack of any serious injuries, Peter thinks as he shoves the stones and wood off of his chest and pushes himself into a sitting position. „Neal!“ This time, his voice is booming with concern. No reply. No! Peter scrambles to his feet, briefly swaying in place as pain hits him, radiating from his midsection and head. He composes himself quickly, fear and panic spurring his adrenaline. He takes two steps and reaches upwards, uttering a low moan as he strains his ribs, but he manages to reach high enough that his fingertips are brushing Neal's.

Neal's hand feels limp and cold and when Peter withdraws his own, he looks at his fingertips. They are slick with blood.  _Neal, damn it!_


	2. First-Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and on with the whump. :) Poor Neal. ^^

As fast as Peter can, he stumbles over rubble and makes his way for the hallway and the stairs leading up to the first floor. He frantically searches for his phone in his pocket only to find it shattered to pieces. _Shit! Not now!_

There is no other way for him than to get to Neal rather than leaving him to get help.

That would not have been an option anyway. He really, really needed to know, if his partner was still breathing.

Sweat is forming on his forehead and as he rushes towards the stairs, which miraculously seem to be intact, he sheds his suit-jacket and tie. The air still feels stuffy around him, making it harder to breathe, but the dust was already beginning to settle.

He tries hard to occupy his mind while he takes two steps at a time, not trying to think about Neal's still form hanging halfway from the ceiling.

When he reaches the room he skids to an abrupt halt and takes in the situation. _How can I be so level-headed right now? Because Neal needs you to be!_

What is left of the room is lost in chaos. There is rubble and debris and broken pillars everywhere. Some parts of the walls are gone as is the next ceiling above him, parts of it collapsed. Oh God. At least there didn't seem to be any smoke or fire up here.

And then he spots his partner by the hole in the floor. He is lying in an awkward position, his legs sprawled out towards Peter, the right part of his chest obscured by rubble. His head and left arm disappearing from view into the hole, making him seem headless. Peter shudders.

He takes one tentative step into the room, the floor beneath him creaking and groaning.  _Not good._

Why had he and Neal walked into this without back-up? How could he have been so confident about this? He has to swallow hard as guilt is rippling through his mind, joining in with the hum of concern and fear. He can't loose Neal. Not like this. Not ever.

He slowly gets down on all fours and moves forward with cautious, shuffled steps, sharp objects hurting his knees. He doesn't want to endanger Neal or himself further but he also knows that Neal is in need of immediate help and if they both should go down, so be it.

He can still hear the clatter of loose stones falling, but other than that the place is eerily quiet.

„Neal“, Peter calls out again. There is still no reply.

But when Peter nears Neal's body he can make out the low rise and fall of his chest. A sigh of relief escapes his lips as he sits next to Neal's form. He leans his upper body forward as far as he can over the hole and reaches down with one hand, which he wraps around Neal's neck, lifting his limp head up to take a look at his face. His cheeks are a little flushed from hanging upside down but otherwise it is impossibly pale and slack, lips parted, his wavy hair now falling over his brows.

He looks like a boy rather than a young man in this moment and all Peter wants to do is wrap him in his arms and carry him to safety. _Easier said than done._

He uses his free hand to shove parts of broken slabs off of Neal's chest and freeing it from dirt as much as he can to look for injuries and where the blood from Neal's dangling arm had come from.

_There!_ Something must've pierced Neal's right shoulder, staining his chest red with blood which was pooling in his jugular notch and had found it's way by gravity down his other arm.

He shakes Neal gently, trying to rouse him. „Neal, wake up. Please!“

He can see that his CI is closing his lips and swallowing, brows drawing together in pain as he makes a small whine in the back of this throat that breaks Peter's heart. „Come on buddy, open your eyes, we need to get out of here.“

Neal gasps and opens his eyes slowly, blinking owlishly up at his handler. „P'tr?“

„Yeah, I'm here. We got caught in an explosion, but I've got you, you're going to be okay.“

“K”, Neal breathes. “Hurts.”

“I know, buddy. Come on, let's try to sit you up.”

Peter realizes with regret that he had left his suit-jacket on the stairs. He knew he had to tend to Neal's wound and staunch the bleeding.

Wrapping his arms around Neal's shoulders, he pulls him into a somewhat upright position, Neal's weak body seemingly not strong enough to hold the posture, falling against Peter's chest. Unable to raise his head, Neal mumbles “Pt'r, you okay?” He draws in a wheezing breath, trying to straighten his stance and fails miserably. “ _I_ am, but _you're_ bleeding. Do you have your phone, Neal?”

“Lft't.”

“What?”

“Lef' it 'n.... car.”

_Great!_ The car was parked outside near the building. He definitely had to drag Neal out of here to get to it and to the phone inside.

He peels his CI's suit-jacket from his shoulders as carefully as he can, but Neal still whimpers softly, breathing through the pain as the movement jostles his injury.

What Peter would give to trade places with him. Seeing him like this... What will El say? Or Mozzie?

Now more visible, the sight of Neal's blood on his dress-shirt was unbearable. His entire front was stained and the hole in his shoulder still oozing. Peter quickly loosens Neal's tie and wraps it around the wound, fastening it with a tight knot. As careful as he tried to be, without warning, Neal goes completely limp, clearly having slipped back into unconsciousness, his head dropping all the way forward, his chin touching his chest. _Shit._

Peter sits still for a moment, contemplating his next move. Through the still lingering, slightly muffled sound in his ears, he can hear the building groaning, the faint crackling of fire somewhere below, his own heartbeat and Neal's hitched breathing. _Get your shit together, the kid needs you._


	3. Hallway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, rather short chapter. :) Will try to wrap the story up soon. Hope, you enjoy.

Peter closes his eyes for a moment and buries his nose in Neal's dark locks, breathing in the familiar scent of his friend now mixed with that of ash, blood and fear.

“Neal, I'm going to move you.”, he says against the back of the young man's head, well aware that he can't hear him.

He shifts his position, sliding his arms under Neal's armpits and stands up at the same time.

Slowly, step by step, he drags and pulls him through the room, over and around fallen stones and rubble. By the time they reach the hallway, Peter is panting with the effort. “You are heavier than I thought, buddy.”

“Mmm.”

“Neal! Hey, you with me?” Peter lays the young man down, whose head is rolling to the side. A cough wracks his lean frame and he utters a barely audible “P...”

More coughing and Peter drags Neal's torso onto his lap, elevating his body slightly to make breathing easier for him. Looking down into Neal's slack face, he can make out a sliver of shocking light-blue staring up at the ceiling. He gently shakes his friend, whose head is rolling loosely in his lap, the dark waves falling away from his brows.

“Come on, buddy. Look at me.” Peter pleads and Neal's eyes slowly wander to meet his.

“Do you think you can stand, if I'd support you?” Neal's eyes open wider and he presses his lips together, clearly concentrating on coming to and steeling himself for what's to come.

“K.. I'll try.” He slurs.

“Okay, here we go.” Peter hoists Neal to his feet in one fluid motion although he can feel that his own strength is fleeting, the adrenaline slowly running out. Neal wavers dangerously, he clings to Peter for dear life, so that his legs won't falter beneath him and he takes some tentative steps, leaning heavily on the older man. “S'ry.”

“Don't. Just... don't. This is my fault. I should've listened to you.”

Neal glances at him sideways, mouth agape, eyes huge- dumbstruck by the honest apology. He tries his best at a small smile, which ends up in a pained expression, when the throbbing in his shoulder flares.

“'s okay, Peter. 'M fine.” 

Going is slow and when they reach the bottom of the stairs, Peter is certain that by the looks of his CI, he is about to pass-out again.

The air down here is thicker and smells burned, making them both cough and press on to walk and stumble towards the exit in a faster pace.

Peter is so focused on pondering what the kid had been through recently and on concealing any guilty feelings that are rising up from his belly, invading his mind, blocking out everything around him, that he startles in surprise when Neal's head snaps up, eyes wide and wild.

His hair is plastered to his temples, his breathing labored and there are shallow scrapes on his handsome face. He looks like a deer in the headlights all of a sudden and Peter is just about to ask what's the matter, when Neal's voice is crisp and clear in the hollow, utterly destroyed, burning building: “Kate.”


	4. Outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, took a while to finish this chapter. And the story keeps on getting longer. :) Will try to squeeze in a "comfort" chapter at the end. I've never written anything hospital-themed, but will try. :)

Neal starts struggling against Peter's grip, arms flailing. He turns around, ready to walk straight back inside and yells in a panicked voice: “... have to save her Peter! She's in there! She's on the plane!”

Peter tightens his grip, wrapping both arms around his friend. The flashback hits him. Hard. _Shit, this can't be happening._

He can only imagine what must be going on in Neal's head. The smell of burned rubber, the tarmac, Kate's last wave at him through the door, the fireball and then the love of his life was gone. Thick-headed Neal had refused to see a consultant or to confide in him or Mozzie. He had gone back to work, distracting himself with every boring mortgage fraud case he could get his hands on. To bury his feelings deep inside and to appear functioning to the outside world. Peter had given him the space, tread around him lightly, but he had never been sure, if that was the right way for Neal to deal with his grief. Now he knew.

The strength with which Neal is fighting his embrace is astounding. With the injuries he had acquired, Peter wasn't sure how he could even be standing upright let alone try to _run_ back into the storage house.

They were so close to the door... he could practically feel the waft of fresh air.

Through Neal's struggles and shouting, a grumbling noise can be heard. Something had just collapsed in an adjacent room. _They really needed to get moving, now!_

The noise must've sounded like another explosion to Neal, who is doubling his efforts, calling out for Kate over and over...

“Ooomph”, is the sound he elicits when his back hits the nearest wall. Peter had shifted his grip, grabbing Neal's neck and clutching at his collar, forcefully swirling him around until the poor man's back hit the wall with more momentum than Peter had anticipated. “I'm so sorry, pal. You NEED to calm down.”

He can see a single tear rolling down Neal's cheek, findings it's way through blood and dirt. His large eyes are looking up at Peter with such desperation; it's almost unbearable to see him so exposed and vulnerable. “She's gone, Peter. She's dead. I deserve to be by her side.”, he breathes.

“No! Don't you dare talk like that. You make a difference! You matter!” Peter has to swallow hard against the lump forming in his throat. Until this day, Peter never truly understood what bound Neal to Kate or what their relationship must've been like.

He only knows that she used him in the end. Which made him question, whether Neal had ever truly been loved for who he was.

And he realizes... that _**he does.**_ In a fraternal, unyielding, unconditional way. Trust might be another topic. But he knew with all his heart that he wanted this young, charming, stubborn and smart art forger in his life. For good. Couldn't imagine it without him.

Neal's breathing slows and Peter can see his strength waning and his condition deteriorating as he stops struggling against Peter's hold.

“Please, buddy. Cowboy up; it's only a couple more steps then we're outside.” He says gently, his soft brown eyes looking into Neal's pale baby-blues, which are blinking sluggishly.

“K, P'tr. Trus' you...”

The older man releases his grip of the injured man's collar, whose eyes immediately roll back and he tips froward, his forehead now nestled between Peter's shoulder and the crook of his neck. Neal's skin feels hot, his front shirt is wet with blood and his legs are slowly folding beneath him, sagging against Peter and making him start sliding down his front in slow motion.

It's like all his strings have been cut and Peter knows that even if he were successful in bringing him back to consciousness, he knows that his friend won't be able to take another step. So he bends his knees in a fluid motion and the weak, young man automatically falls across his shoulders, arms and legs dangling like a rag-doll. The agent grunts with the effort to stand up straight, lifting his CI off the ground and turns towards the door.

His grip is tight around Neal's limbs. He is so afraid of letting him drop as Neal's form is sliding more towards the ground with each step he is taking. _I can make it. I have to make it. Come on, Burke._

As soon as he steps through the double doors with his charge, he can not only spot the car nearby right away, but he also gulps in the fresh air that greets him, utterly grateful to be out of the dirt and heat and imminent danger.

All he wants to do at this moment is to get Neal to a hospital, wills him to be alright, sending desperate prayers to no one in particular, fuming at himself, feeling furiously guilty, wishing for El to just hug him, telling him that it's not his fault, that Neal would forgive him and be alright... the huge conglomerate of emotions has him grumbling under his breath, tears brimming in his eyes.

_Focus, damn it!_

Peters reaches the car and as gently as he can and with as much strength he can muster, he squats down and tilts to the side simultaneously so that Neal's legs are sprawled on the ground, practically in a sitting position and then wraps his arms around the unconscious man's torso with one arm, reaching for his neck with the other and lays him down on the floor, spread-eagle.

Neal's face is slack, his lips parted, his dark locks sprawled around his head on the ground like in a gruesome painting, but at least his breathing seemed okay and Peter's makeshift bandage seems to have kept it's hold on the shoulder-wound.

Peter doesn't waste any time and unlocks the car at the passenger side and spots Neal's phone immediately in the center console. He could drive to the hospital himself but he's fairly certain he has a mild concussion and bruised ribs himself, making him slightly light-headed and in no condition to drive through town in the crazy traffic.

Let alone the whirlwind of feelings dominating is thoughts, making it hard for him to focus on anything right now. Except to dwell on the feeling of how much this annoying, smart-ass criminal had become his best friend, sneaking his way into his (and he's fairly certain: El's) heart, making their lives so much more joyful and colorful.

Every day with Neal Caffrey was an adventure. Their success rate on solving cases was astronomically high, practically making them the stars of the White Collar division. Which is mostly due to Neal's wits, quick-thinking and talents. Peter thought he was jealous of the seemingly easy way Neal was dancing his way through life, with a beaming smile, charming everyone around him. _Fricking cappuccino in the clouds._ But then he realized that he was admiring the kid. And deep down, he also knew, it was partly an act. He knew how vulnerable, honest and considerate the young man truly was. A good man.

Peter had already called for help and was now slumped against the side of the car, the phone in one hand, the other resting on Neal's chest, making sure he kept breathing as he heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance.


	5. Hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I messed up the tenses! Mea culpa. ^^

At the sound of the sirens drawing closer, Neal seemed to stir a bit. “You'll be alright, kid. Just hold on.” Peter mumbled reassuringly more to himself than his unconscious CI.

The ambulance stopped right next to them and everything happened in a quick haze to Peter. Neal was assessed and strapped to a gurney, slack as a rag-doll.

After climbing into the back, the young man seemed even paler to Peter. With his disheveled hair and blood and dirt covering his torn suit, he looked like a horror-movie character, his ordeal all too visible. _This should never have happened._

The paramedics were cutting away Neal's suit, revealing the true extent of his injuries and shouting medical terms at each other, while they hooked him up on oxygen and fluids.

Peter hadn't noticed that he was lost in thought, when the ambulance stopped and he was shepherd through the emergency entrance, through a hall and to a separate cubicle in a row of curtains. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see Neal's gurney being wheeled away around a corner.

“Mr Burke, I'm your doctor, can you sit down so I can take a look at your injuries?”

Out of nowhere, it seemed, a young doctor was standing in front of him. “Sure. I... Look, my friend Neal was with me. Can I get an update as soon as you have worked on him? I really need to know how he is.”

“Sure, don't worry. He's being treated right now, but as soon as I can get information on his status, I'll come find you. Now, shall we take a look?”

Peter had been dozing for what seemed like hours in his curtained cubicle.

El was sitting in a chair next to him, reading a magazine. He had called her as soon as they were done treating him.

After it was clear, he had obtained some bruised ribs and a mild concussion, they had put him on painkillers and he tried to relax, now pain-free, but his mind was going in circles. Evolving around Neal.

“Mr Burke?” His doctor stepped through the light-blue curtains, which had kept reminding him of Neal's eyes.

“I have news about your friend who came in with you.” Peter perked up, El practically threw her reading aside and looked at the man wide-eyed.

“He will make a full recovery and is now in another cubicle just a few rows down, you can go see him, if you like. Peter, we will discharge you today but we'd like to keep Mr Caffrey for at least two nights to monitor his condition. He has a broken collarbone which we set as best we could, he has two broken ribs, a concussion and a deep puncture wound in his shoulder, which we had to treat. He should wake up soon, so maybe you'd like to sit with him.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Relief washed through him and he could see El's chin quiver for a second, before she regained control and smiled at him. _God, how glad he was he had her by his side through better, through worse._

The thought of leaving Neal here for the night didn't sit well with Peter as he looked at his sleeping friend. He had been cleaned and bandages were visible underneath his thin hospital gown. A nasal cannula was providing oxygen and he looked so _god damn_ young.

El was holding Neal's limp hand and stroked his hair away from his forehead, her gaze lost and forlorn in the young man's features.

“He'll be okay, hun.”

“I hope so, Peter. Can we take him home once he is ready in two days? June's away for the week and I'd like to make sure that he's not alone and properly taken care of.”

“Of course, hun. He'll be insufferable.” Peter huffed a laugh and smiled to himself. “And I'm looking forward to it.” He grinned at her. Because it would mean that Neal was okay.

Suddenly, Neal gave a small squeak, his lips parted and his fingers curled around El's.

“Neal?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. <3


End file.
